Once a runner, always a runner

It was a bright, sunny no-work Tuesday.

We decided to use the free day for an 11-mile beach hike along the Dungeness Spit on the Olympic Peninsula.

I wore full-length black tights, a long-sleeve shirt, a puffy down jacket and a rain jacket. (This is important info for later).

We didn’t get an early start but made our way over on the ferry in the morning. By the time we started the hike, it was close to noon.

From the parking lot to the beach, there is a marked dirt trail amongst trees. It was cold and shady as we walked along. A ranger in a golf-cart type vehicle came driving towards us on the trail. He stopped to let us walk by. We exchanged hellos and continued on.

“I have a question for you!” the ranger politely yelled back at us.

Bryce and I turned around and he nicely asked us if we were planning on running. We responded that we were not there to run. Bryce told him that we were going to walk along the beach.

“Oh, OK, good. I was just checking. Because, sometimes we get people like you come here but there’s no running allowed on the beach,” he explained to us.

We exchanged good-byes and Bryce and I continued on.

I was beaming.

“He thought we looked like runners!” I exclaimed.

Even though we had no intentions of running, I guess maybe our running shoes gave it away. Or, the fact that I was wearing black tights rather than jeans or “hiking pants” like some of the other folks we encountered at the beach.

There’s no running or jogging allowed at Dungeness Spit because it is a wildlife refuge.

But, we weren’t there for running.

Even though we looked like it. Which, as a runner, is a big compliment.

We skipped rocks — there were the flattest of rocks everywhere! We saw several seals waving to us from the waters. And, we made it to the lighthouse. (And, even got to go up to the top!)

It was a successful non-running day.

As we drove out of the parking lot, a doe looked up at us — and asked me if I was a runner!

I told her, “yes” and to have a good night.


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